Page 57 of Unleashed By Eden

“Sure thing, Carter.” He lowers the camera, red light blinking off.

“Thanks, man.”

I’ve gotten to know Dave and Mika pretty damn well. Hard not to when they’re orbiting you all day with a lens six inches from your face. I could’ve gone the tortured artist route and ignored them, but I learned early on in my career that working with cameras beats getting hunted by them. After blanking Dave and Mika for the first few weeks on tour, I remembered the golden rule: Give them something. Let them get their shots and do their job. They’re more likely to give you space when you ask for it.

Press, paps, doco crew. They’re all the same. Work with them, not against them.

Waiting for the elevator outside the hotel gym, the sweat continues to bead on my forehead. The numbers tick down slowly. I’m wired and worn out at the same time.

Chris comes around the corner, head buried in his phone.

“Liam’s moved things around tomorrow so you can have a day off,” he says, eyes still squinting at the screen. “Anything I need to know about?”

He finally looks up.

I shake my head. “Nope. Just need a break before Paris.”

Damn, Liam moves fast. I was thinking we’d get it done in Paris, maybe even Milan. Scheduled downtime when everyone’s already on a break. Instead, he’s carved a hole in a city where every minute is already sold three times over.

Tours run like a machine. Every hour is accounted for, with very little slack or room to move. And Chris is the bastard with the wrench, making sure nothing jams. He hates changes. We get a proper break every six cities. This isn’t one of them.

“You need to keep me in the loop, Carter. Don’t shut me out. I can’t do my job if I don’t know what’s going on.”

He looks concerned, which is the last thing I need. This is exactly why I didn’t want to deal with this on tour. I already know something is wrong in my body. I don’t need everyone else wobbling around me while I’m trying to keep the show upright.

I grab his shoulder and give him a rough shake, pulling him in, our foreheads touching.

“I promise, everything’s fine. I mentioned to Liam last night that I was tired, and he overreacted. Some time to clear my head will do me good. And I know it’s shit timing before the Paris break. I know what goes into moving the schedule around. So . . . thank you. I appreciate it.”

Chris blinks, as thrown by the compliment as the sweat on my forehead.

“If you need anything, you tell me,” he says finally. “That’s what I’m here for.”

The elevator dings. I let him go and step inside.

He wipes his forehead with a grimace. “You better not go off the rails on my watch,” he calls. “I’m fucking serious.”

I grin and flip him off as the doors slide shut. His voice carries through the gap before it seals.

“Conference room in twenty!”

I enter my suite on the top floor, and for the first time, I wish Vi could stay with me. Would make everything so much easier. I wouldn’t have to go down to her room at stupid o’clock. I could just . . . reach over.

I’m jonesing for my next taste of her sweet cunt.

One night buried between her thighs did nothing but light the fuse. It was too frenzied, years of emotional shit burning off. Next time, I want slow. I want control. I want to drag every second out until she’s begging, to hold her on the edge because I can, and watch her fall apart because I said so.

I jump into the shower, hot water pounding my back. One hand palms soap over my body; the other is already wrapped around my cock, stroking slow as I imagine her tight clasp pulsing around me. I replay the entire night in my head, her spine arching when my piercing rammed her G-spot. The sound she made when I told her she was mine. It’s enough to push me over the brink. I come with a grunt, bracing my palm flat against the tile, watching it wash down the drain, knowing it’s barely taken the edge off.

It’ll have to do until tonight.

I towel off, drag on jeans and a T-shirt, and shove my feet into boots. Before I leave, I grab my notebook off the nightstand, tear out a page scattered with scribbled half-finished lyrics, and fold it over. Crease by crease, it twists into a rose. One of the useless skills you pick up on tour. Kai ripped into me the first time he saw me do it. He still does. Then I watched him try to learn in secret. Poorly.

I take the elevator down to Vi’s floor, heart ratcheting up a notch the closer I get. I slip my keycard in, listen for the soft click, and step into her room.

It smells like her.

My dick goes from satiated to fully alert in a heartbeat.